


daybreak open your eyes

by fullsunflower



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Angst, Friends With Benefits, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, it's a little angsty i guess, lapslock, mostly just dudes being bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22314496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullsunflower/pseuds/fullsunflower
Summary: people say that alcohol releases inhibitions, hooks deeply submerged secrets and fishes them out through loose lips. the alcohol in mark’s system reveals donghyuck in overwhelming clarity.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 30
Kudos: 209





	daybreak open your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> hello!  
> just some warnings: drinking, implied drug use, implied sexual content  
> also a disclaimer: i don't know too much about frats so im sorry if it's inaccurate, but on a surface level let's just enjoy nct being bros, shall we?

there’s burning behind mark’s eyelids, a blinding orange imprint on his vision, a blood moon stark against a night sky.

there’s pounding everywhere – his ears, his stomach, climbing up his throat. worst of all, his brain is in a fight with his skull and he’s scared one will win. he tries to swallow, mouth a desert, and just like that his guts are escaping into the toilet bowl.

yuta is there, cool fingers against mark’s feverish skin. “oh, mark,” he chides, soft like a mother chastising her favourite child. “why do you do this every time?”

mark manages a thin smile. “it’s ‘cause I know you’ll take care of me,” he says. yuta rolls his eyes but his smile is blazing, brighter than the sun yet easier on the eyes.

there’s a knock and johnny’s head pops in the doorway. “hey,” he says, wary, as if approaching a lion’s den. except the lion is tranquilized, weak from turning inside out. “i made breakfast.”

his cheeks dimple and mark can’t be angry, even though it’s his fault that mark is here in the first place.

“i don’t think I can eat right now,” mark groans. he palms at his eyes because there’s too much light. it’s almost comical how vehemently his body rejects what had once been routine. there’s a familiarity in this, though – his fight with the light, cold tiles beneath him and cold hands on his face, sometimes yuta or taeyong or doyoung.

“how did i get home anyway?” mark’s memory exists in fragments – chenle’s green hair luminescent under dim light, jaemin spilling tequila on a marble counter, teeth grazing his neck – _what the fuck?_

mark straightens, world spinning and ground shifting, but his gaze is steady, fixed on the purple bruise marring the pale skin of his throat through the reflection on the mirror. “what the fuck?” he voices.

johnny and yuta stare, twin faces of confusion. what the fuck, indeed.

::;

a mere half-hour into mark’s finance revision, johnny bursts into the room. he’s speaking, mouth moving, but mark doesn’t hear anything but _chill lofi beats_.

“huh?” mark asks dumbly, tugging the airpod out of his left ear.

“i said, why aren’t you dressed?” johnny asks, eyeing the small hole on the chest of mark’s ratty high school band t-shirt.

“i’m not going,” mark gestures vaguely to his desk, loose papers littering the entire surface, calculator buried deep underneath. “finance test on tuesday.”

“that’s like, three whole days away,” johnny reasons.

mark can’t argue with that logic, so ten minutes later they’re heading down the block to the gam’s house that’s already overflowing, spilling people onto the front lawn and loud, shitty edm into the open night air.

an arm drapes over his shoulder as soon as he sets foot into the foyer. “mark!” the person yells over the pulse of the walls, straight into mark’s ear.

jaemin drunk is very much like jaemin sober, frenzied eyes and blue-white teeth. “you said you weren’t coming,” he yells again. mark pushes at his jaw.

“ _you_ said you weren’t coming,” mark counters at a reasonable volume. they made something of a pact earlier that day, to forgo the party in favour of studying. mark supposes it’s only fair that neither followed through, for the sake of solidarity and all.

jaemin just grins, flashes more teeth. “let’s get you a drink.”

the kitchen is less humid, less loud. renjun is there at the island, the fucker capsizing a bottle into a red solo cup. “drink this,” he hands the cup to jaemin, eyes glinting. mark snatches it and chugs before either of them could protest. it burns a trail down mark’s digestive tract. it tastes like rum and mistakes, headiness already tingling up mark’s spine.

“you’re no fun,” renjun grumbles. he scrunches his nose, sticks his tongue out. it hits mark that he’s friends with children.

“where’s jeno?” mark asks. he doesn’t feel like babysitting tonight.

“dunno, living room?” renjun offers, already pouring another drink.

“don’t give him any more,” mark warns. renjun mock salutes, jaemin sways, and mark sets off.

the living room / makeshift dancefloor is loud and technicolor and so alive it’s suffocating. mark tries to scan through the faces but he’s not tall enough nor entirely sober enough to see past shadows and shifting lights. a hand finds his own through the crowd.

it’s yeri from econ. she tugs on mark’s arm until they’re facing each other, too close. there’s a piece of glitter stuck above her eyebrow. a smile curls on the edge of her lips.

“have you seen jeno,” he speaks into her ear. her hair smells like strawberries and something sickly sweet.

yeri ignores the question. “dance with me,” she says, breath hot against mark’s ear. light winks at him on the tops of her cheeks and eyelids. how could he say no?

::;

mark may not remember much from the night before but one thing’s for sure: yeri had been more interested in getting mina’s attention than mark.

his brothers offer very little help, save for doyoung who says, “jeno walked you home, I think,” through a mouthful of the eggs johnny had prepared for mark.

so mark finds himself across the street at kappa house, too warm in his oversized hoodie to be nestled between jaemin and jeno on their oversized couch. renjun and donghyuck are there too, lying across the room near the fireplace. renjun scrolls through his phone while donghyuck remains lifeless underneath their shared blanket. this donghyuck is a photograph out of focus, all soft edges and delicate features and smudged eyeliner; more subdued than mark has seen in a while.

everyone is a little worse for wear, jaemin in particular, his cheek digging into mark’s shoulder, eyes shut and still like a statue. mark pats his hair once, twice.

“you disappeared for a while, then you came back and wanted to take shots,” jaemin says when mark asks him about the night before. jaemin shifts, looks up at mark with concerned eyes. “you don’t remember?”

“not entirely,” more like not at all, but mark doesn’t want to worry them. he’s worried now, though, because it’s uncharacteristic, what he’d done. at that point he’d already been worried about jaemin’s consumption, and under the right mind, he would have never encouraged it. something significant must have happened, freaked him out a little, and he has a vague idea what.

mark shakes his head. “it’s not really a big deal. just curious,” mark says it casually, neck burning underneath the hoodie.

“after all this time, i can’t believe you’re such a lightweight,” renjun says from across the room, quietly but with infliction. mark considers flipping him off.

jeno convulses with silent laughter beside mark, the traitor. jeno’s eyes have disappeared into crescents when mark tries to glare, and it’s very hard to be angry when jeno looks at him like that.

there’s a crash and then a scream, undoubtedly chenle, from the adjacent room where the rest of the functioning kappas are eating brunch. donghyuck stirs and groans, shifting underneath the blanket he shares with renjun.

“good morning, sunshine,” jaemin coos.

donghyuck ignores him, curling in on himself like a cat and covering his ears. it’s no use as chenle’s next scream penetrates the air. donghyuck groans again, now awake.

“for fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, throwing the blanket off despite renjun’s protests. he sits up, accidentally looks straight into mark’s awaiting gaze. what happens next is a rush: donghyuck looks away after a split second but the damage is done, an explosion behind mark’s eyes. visions erupt in his mind’s eye, too vivid, painful for his mush brain to process. it’s shards of a memory – meeting eyes across a room bathed in blue, meeting eyes in a dimly lit hallway, a hushed conversation in the dark:

_i thought you were straight_

_i only kiss boys i like_

mark’s breath hitches. his hoodie is suffocating, trapping in too much heat and heartbeat. he’s frozen, can do nothing but watch donghyuck leave.

“you good?” jaemin asks. cold hands are on mark’s face again.

“’m fine,” mark swats jaemin’s hands away.

well there’s mark’s answer, now climbing up the stairs, leaving behind even more questions than mark and his mush brain knows what to do with.

mark comes back to the kappa house later that day under the pretense of studying.

they’re situated in the dining room – he, renjun, jaemin, and jeno, that is. renjun and jaemin share mark’s finance class, also have not started studying, and are therefore equally as screwed as him, while jeno is only there for moral support as a fellow business major.

the kappa house is, in general, an awful place to study. it’s an enclosure to a cacophony of sounds, and today is no exception. there’s a commotion in the next room where the others are fighting over mario kart, and kappas keep filtering in and out of the room just to be bothersome. mark doesn’t mind, though, because it reminds him of what his house once was. it keeps him young. plus, kun is always around to offer endless snacks.

one kappa is notably absent. mark tries to ignore it, he really does, but the gaping hole of donghyuck is palpable, settling over mark’s bones like an itch, and he can’t help but scratch.

“i have to piss,” he says abruptly. jaemin, jeno, and renjun just nod along, hunched over a word problem as if mark’s mind isn’t going a mile a minute.

donghyuck’s room is next to renjun’s, which means it’s the first room from the staircase on the second floor. mark doesn’t really know what he’s doing, doesn’t have time to contemplate it, really, because as the universe would have it, donghyuck emerges just as mark reaches the final step. then they’re staring at each other, suspended in time, a single drawn-out breath.

donghyuck speaks first. “do you need something?” he asks. he looks much better than earlier, more composed, refined; an almost perfect imitation of his everyday self, if not for the tightness in the set of his shoulders, a hairline fracture on his mask of nonchalance. or maybe mark is just projecting. he really doesn’t know donghyuck well enough to wager on what’s real or what’s fake.

“do you remember what happened last night?” mark asks.

“you don’t?” donghyuck counters.

“not fully.” it’s not a lie.

“oh.” donghyuck’s gaze is a formidable thing, tangible like a caress, leaving a trail of heat as it moves from mark’s eyes down to his neck then back up again. mark can feel his face reddening.

“we kissed,” donghyuck says finally.

“oh,” mark echoes. he’s relieved, really.

“yeah,” donghyuck pauses before casually adding, “then you blew me.”

mark chokes on nothing. heat spreads through his body as vague images resurface, of donghyuck’s half-lidded expression looking down on him, hands in his hair, his knees bruising against the cold tile. he doesn’t know how much is memory and how much is fantasy, but it’s infecting his brain and drawing out the moisture from his mouth. _shit_.

mark was definitely projecting, because while he’s blushing like a prude, donghyuck is unperturbed, sharp smile burgeoning on his lips. “just forget about it,” donghyuck says, eyes glinting, before shouldering past mark to head down the stairs.

there it is again, that itch. “was it good?” mark calls after him.

donghyuck halts, turns back to look up at mark, cocks his head a little. whatever wickedness that was present in his eyes has disappeared, overtaken by an open expression of amusement, of fascination. he opens his mouth as if to say something but closes it again, reconsidering. “bye, mark,” is all he says before continuing down the stairs. mark doesn’t miss the mirth in his voice.

there’s a rushing river in mark’s ears. his chest is thrumming with the beat of a hummingbird’s wings and he wants to grip it, cage it before it escapes. he doesn’t know how long he stands there staring at the path donghyuck had taken, waiting for his mind to settle. it doesn’t, but he eventually makes his way back downstairs through the haze.

“dude, are you okay? you look seriously red,” jeno asks.

“i’m good,” mark says. he clears his throat, ignoring the questioning glances. “where were we?”

::;

mark’s back is pressed against the door, the mouth on his too rough, too insistent.

“slow down,” mark rasps through the bruising kisses.

“’m sorry,” donghyuck mumbles against mark’s lips. he pulls away, smirking slightly as mark’s mouth chases his. but he doesn’t let mark reach him, palm firm against mark’s collarbone to keep him flat against the door. the distance between them is dense, body heat reaching, intertwining through the expanse. mark’s heart reaches out too, batters against his ribcage so donghyuck could feel it through his chest.

“do you want to stop?” in donghyuck’s voice there’s a challenge but his eyes are too wide, pupils blown out, _innocent_ ; a contrast to his tone and the burning stare he’d adorned a mere ten minutes ago when he’d propositioned mark into this situation.

there’s a warning in mark’s head, blaring sirens and red flashing lights. but mark doesn’t want to stop, not really, so he pushes donghyuck towards the bed. mark only sees a glint of donghyuck’s grin as he climbs over the younger boy, this time the one taking control and this time the one inflicting bruising kisses.

mark flops over beside donghyuck, panting and spent. he takes a moment, listening to his own heartbeat in his ears mingling with his and donghyuck’s heavy breaths in the heavy silence of the room. mark can’t stay, not tonight, when there’s static on his skin, so he wordlessly gets up and starts sliding his clothes back on his body.

it’s been like this with them recently. a few stolen moments that ends with one leaving the other without a trace of anything but the phantom heat of a body that’s already dissipating into the air.

“hey mark,” donghyuck calls. he says it quietly, softly, but it beats against mark’s eardrums.

mark swallows, turns to face him. “yeah?” his own voice is rough, filtering through the knot forming in his throat.

it’s hard sometimes to look at donghyuck. this donghyuck – hair haloed across the pillow, lips darkened and swollen, flushed and soft – is a picture of mark’s wants and desires. like someone had picked apart mark’s brain, stole the image just to dangle it in front of his eyes.

“thanks,” donghyuck says gently. as if mark had done this for him, continues to do this for him. as if mark isn’t risking anything for the warmth of his touch or the taste of his lips. as if leaving and being left doesn’t tear away at mark’s heart every time. donghyuck is a picture of mark’s want and desire, but donghyuck is not mark’s to have.

the lump in his throat has grown, suffocating. all he can do is nod before leaving and closing donghyuck’s door gently. he all but sprints to get out of that stupid house. the cool evening breeze does little to put the fire out in his chest.

“where’ve you been?” sicheng asks when he makes it back home.

“out,” is all mark replies before running up the stairs, two at a time, and slamming his door shut. he’s a child again, doing stupid things and kicking and screaming from the consequences. but he couldn’t care less how he’s acting right now because it hurts, it hurts, _it hurts_.

he claws at his shirt, pulls and pulls until the buttons come undone, trying to get rid of the static on his skin. he lays on his bed, stares at the ceiling, waits for the hurt to pass. it usually does, settling until the flames are gone but the coals are still hot. until all that’s left is emptiness and numbness and acceptance that this is his life; that he’s fallen in love with a boy who can’t, and he gives and gives because giving is also taking and he’s too selfish to stop.

::;

like everything that goes wrong in mark’s life recently, it starts at a party. it’s at the kappas this time, in honour of jaemin and renjun passing their finance test. though it could also have been in honour of jisung finally getting his lingual braces off, or yangyang beating his favourite video game. it could have been anything really, because any excuse is a good excuse for a party. mark doesn’t even think about missing it, because renjun may have threatened bodily harm if he tries. _you need to loosen up, old man_ , renjun had said.

jungwoo is supposed to babysit him tonight because no one wants a repeat of last week’s blackout incident. it’s a mistake because jungwoo is too nice, too trusting to refuse when mark claims he’s sober and asks for another drink. mark _is_ sober, he swears, even though he’s only four shots in and his head already feels lighter, shoulders feeling more lifted.

(so mark is a lightweight. and what about it? it’s more fiscally responsible and it’s better for the liver, so who’s really winning if not him.)

donghyuck is there with the others, matching mark drink for drink, perhaps more since mark arrived late. his skin is flushed, glowing under the fluorescent lights of the basement. mark takes solace in the fact that they’re on equal footing for once.

donghyuck is magnetic tonight, always is, but even more so when the mist in mark’s brain parts for him and him only. people say that alcohol releases inhibitions, hooks deeply submerged secrets and fishes them out through loose lips. the alcohol in mark’s system unveils donghyuck in overwhelming clarity.

mark watches, riveted, as donghyuck throws back his drink, chin titled to the ceiling, the cut of his jaw and elegant line of this throat in full view. mark wants to press his lips, his teeth, against it, wants to feel donghyuck’s heartbeat underneath his tongue. (how long has we wanted this?)

it must show on his face, because donghyuck smirks when their eyes meet. mark flushes, and not entirely with embarrassment. donghyuck’s eyes flash with something like a challenge and mark reads an excuse on his lips before he drifts away from his conversation with dejun. mark’s eyes are transfixed, chasing his head of orange hair as he heads up the stairs and out of sight.

“i’ll be right back,” mark says. jungwoo waves him off, not even pausing from his conversation with yukhei and kunhang. mark rolls his eyes.

once again, mark is climbing a flight of stairs, chasing a rush. that’s really what this is, mark’s deal with donghyuck. it’s messy and erring on danger and fucking _exhilarating_. and once again, mark doesn’t have a game plan. mark knows that is never the way one should deal with donghyuck, but his brain is too fogged with alcohol and want and donghyuck to think rationally.

he’s sprawled against the entire expanse of his bed the next day, head throbbing, hoping his blankets would swallow him whole because this whole situation is messy.

they should probably talk about it, he and donghyuck. it’s messy because donghyuck is like family. or rather, jaemin, jeno and renjun are like family. donghyuck is _their_ family so that would make him only tangentially related, like a fourth-cousin-six-times-removed-who-isn’t-even-on-the-will type of related. still, it feels weird. knowing donghyuck, he probably hasn’t even given it a second thought. mark should probably do the same and just move on.

there’s a knock on his door. “come in,” mark calls.

it’s taeyong. he’s been missing for a few days, busy being the responsible student mark should be, but hardly anything escapes taeyong’s distress radar. “hey,” he sits by the foot of mark’s bed. “jungwoo told me you weren’t feeling well.”

“just terribly hungover,” mark mumbles. _and i slept with my best friends’ brother._ “it’s no big deal.”

taeyong laughs, the kind that sounds like he’s choking. “oh, mark. you never did learn how to do anything halfway. i guess getting drunk is no exception.”

taeyong’s voice is fond, unbelievably warm. his words transport mark to a different time with the same frame; of taeyong sitting at the foot of mark’s bed, except their hands are clutched and mark is choking on his own tears.

 _I know you never do anything halfway_ , taeyong had said, _but it’s okay if you let this go._

(mark had been in his second semester in his mechanical engineering program. mark has always had great willpower and self-control, instilled through years of being a try-hard. he’s good at pushing through, but this time was different. maybe it was the idea of working towards something he felt no passion for. he persisted because it’s what he knows. he killed himself over his program, hated himself for it, and partied until he forgot. and it worked, at least for a while. but he’d been spread too thin, like a water balloon, expanding and expanding until he raptured, leaking water everywhere. taeyong had been there to mop up the mess.)

there’s warm tide in mark’s chest, overflowing and spilling over his heart so he grabs taeyong’s hand as an anchor.

taeyong’s eyes widen at the gesture. mark is far from the helpless, clingy freshman that he once was, and mark, though always receptive to displays of affection, is not normally one to initiate. but mark and his brothers these days are ships that pass in the night; mark wishes for their ships to dock, if just for a moment.

“let me know if you need anything,” taeyong says, ruffling mark’s hair before getting up.

“i will,” mark promises. taeyong leaves and mark is alone with his thoughts again. it’s too quiet now, like it has been for a while.

::;

mark had barely known the donghyuck before, the one with brown hair and a smile that wasn’t meant for breaking.

he had disappeared one day and no one had come looking because the donghyuck that replaced him is bigger and brighter and convincing enough to make everyone forget that he had been anyone else. but mark didn’t forget, won’t forget.

mark had watched as donghyuck gave bits and pieces of himself away, living and dying at every party, until he’s nothing but a shell of himself, a veneer for the ghost of the bright-eyed boy who still believed in love.

but this donghyuck here is not a ghost. no, this donghyuck beside mark with his shining eyes, engrossed in the movie playing on his laptop screen, is so warm and so, so alive.

“what?” donghyuck asks, turning to look at mark with wide eyes. it's only then when mark realizes he’s been staring.

“nothing,” mark bites the insides of his cheeks.

donghyuck narrows his eyes, unconvinced. “right,” he says. he turns back to the movie nonetheless, but not before pressing a chaste kiss on the edge of mark’s mouth.

mark is sinking. he can feel it by the way his heart fills and fills with something like tenderness. the realization hits him hard and he wrenches his own heart, wringing out every single drop. because while he’s treading water trying not to drown, donghyuck is completely dry.

it’s not an issue. he’ll be careful. he knows how to swim.

(but mark doesn’t know how to do anything halfway. loving donghyuck isn’t an exception)

::;

there are signs, little things, that should have warned mark that he’s in trouble.

there’s the way his stomach churns in on itself at the sight of donghyuck kissing someone else. they weren’t even anything, just two people who’ve slept together a few times, yet mark tastes bile when he sees donghyuck’s mouth on someone that isn’t him. (it’s just the alcohol, climbing its way back up his throat.)

there’s the way he feels when a random girl kisses him: uncomfortable and all wrong. they weren’t even a _thing_ , just two friends who slept together sometimes, yet mark has an overwhelming feeling that he’d much rather be kissing donghyuck instead. (donghyuck is just a really good kisser.)

there’s the way his heart sings in his chest when donghyuck says, “i’m tired of kissing strangers.”

it’s two in the morning and they’re both lying in mark’s bed, side by side. it’s not the first time donghyuck has climbed up the oak tree beside mark’s window just to sleep, and it won’t be the last.

(the thing is, mark doesn’t usually sleep with anyone, the side-by-side kind. it feels a little too intimate, a little sacrilegious to intimacy perhaps, but he supposes it’s not the worst thing they’ve done. and donghyuck doesn’t usually sleep with just anyone, in the other sense of the word. mark knows, jaemin had told him, because donghyuck likes to wink and flirt and tease too much, and if that resulted in anything more then donghyuck would have fucked the entire university by now. so they’re breaking each other’s rules a little, and neither of them mind one bit.)

the room is dark save for the faint glow of the moon that streams in through the open window. it clings to donghyuck’s profile like an aura. in this light, he looks positively ethereal. (but donghyuck has always been pretty.)

“okay,” mark says. in the darkness, donghyuck’s lips curl into a smile. mark’s heart continues to sing, light and airy, suspiciously like donghyuck’s tinkling laugh.

::;

they’ve never done it in mark’s room, but everyone’s gone home for thanksgiving except for jaehyun who’s currently out on a date, so mark is home alone and the opportunity couldn’t be more perfect.

there’s always something undeniably intimate about showing someone his room, and there’s something undeniably sensual about watching donghyuck take it all in, elegant fingers running languidly across the spine of the cds on mark’s shelf, the long neck of mark’s guitar. mark’s heart thuds, heavy but steady, the sensation of the chair underneath his thighs keeping him grounded as his mind wanders, to thoughts of donghyuck in his bed, spread across his sheets….

mark’s skin heats, blood rushing.

donghyuck, not cognizant of mark’s agony, asks, “you play?”

“yeah,” mark’s voice comes out strained.

donghyuck’s head whips over. now he’s all coy smile and teasing eyes. he abandons the guitar, takes a step towards mark. the creak of the floorboard underneath donghyuck’s foot kickstarts mark’s heart, erratic now that donghyuck’s eyes are on him.

the door to mark’s room flings opens and it’s sudden enough to give mark a minor heart attack.

“hey mark, have you –,” jaehyun breaks off, half-in half-out of the room, noticing donghyuck. “oh, hey hyuckie.” _hyuckie?_

“you two know each other?” mark asks, bewildered. sure, mark’s seen them hotboxing in doyoung’s car before but hardly anything that happens at a party counts as a normal human interaction. hell, mark got crossfaded on the roof of sigma with yoonho just last week, but they sure aren’t going around calling each other pet names.

“yeah, we game together,” jaehyun says. he reaches an arm out, which donghyuck takes, and clasps him on the shoulder. donghyuck presses a wet kiss on jaehyun’s cheek before they part. jaehyun pushes at donghyuck’s face, but he’s laughing. unbelievable. _unbelievable._ “taeyong was disappointed you didn’t come out last night.”

“sorry, i was at the library,” _sucking mark’s tongue in the asian history section_.

“tonight, then,” jaehyun says, and donghyuck nods.

jaehyun pauses, finally realizing. “wait, what are you doing here?” he looks at donghyuck, then mark, then back again, clearly confused at their affiliation.

“uhhh,” nice one, mark. “donghyuck is teaching me… to game.”

“great, then you can join us too,” jaehyun says. mark wants to slam his head against his desk, which precisely is how gaming makes him feel -- not the wanting to bash his head part, but rather the severe head pain part.

“great,” mark echoes. donghyuck shoots him a look like _can you even use a computer_ , to which mark would respond with… barely.

“how was your date,” mark asks, desperate to change the subject, hoping jaehyun would somehow forget about mark gaming.

jaehyun doesn’t respond, just grimaces, drums his hands on the doorjamb. “come downstairs. i have leftovers,” and jaehyun walks right back out the door.

donghyuck moves to follow, but pauses, bracing his hand against the door. “continue later, then?” he asks, but he already knows the answer.

mark just nods before donghyuck disappears behind the door, and his head spins.

worlds are colliding, but instead of combustion, there’s a consolidation – a realization that his and donghyuck’s worlds are really one and the same. he feels as if he’s always known, deep down. he had seen part of himself in donghyuck, even in his drunken state that very first night underneath the blue light, that out of place loneliness that only attracts itself. one thing’s for sure: no one is impervious to it. the pull is so strong that no one can escape it – not taeyong, not jaehyun, and certainly not mark.

::;

mark had first met donghyuck in the fall, almost two years ago. mark’s body had first met donghyuck’s for the first time in the fall, less than year ago. in the spring the waves of mark’s heart began, lapping on the shore of donghyuck’s body as they lay together, but the sands come away as if untouched, drying completely under the warmth of the new sun. spring is almost gone, the waves remain, and mark is tired of fighting the light.

the sun is shining when mark decides ends it. his brothers are off in class, or in the lab, or kissing up to professors so he’s home alone with the full weight of his heart nothing to distract him.

it hurts a little too much, these days.

it hurts, because donghyuck is so full of love, leaking through every orifice, manifesting in the way donghyuck kisses jaemin’s cheek or holds jeno’s hand or smiles at renjun. it hurts because mark gets to be kissed, but only in the dark, behind closed doors, when donghyuck is overflowing, overwhelmed by things that aren’t love.

donghyuck is beautiful, always has been, but even more so under the sun, when the light clings to his golden skin, greedy tendrils reaching for him through mark’s window, like he’s something precious and they’re afraid to let go.

mark kisses donghyuck, breathes him in, drinks him and pours himself over him. mark is burning, because donghyuck is a tantalizing forest fire that mark approached too recklessly, only to get swallowed by the flames. mark lets himself gets lost in the heat of donghyuck’s body against his, because it’s the last time.

they’re standing in the foyer. sicheng could be home any minute, but mark grips donghyuck’s forearm before he could leave. donghyuck has always looked at mark with expectant eyes, always accepting what mark gives, not knowing he’s already taken it all.

“i think we should stop,” mark says. his voice sounds steady. it echoes in the emptiness in the house and the hollowness in mark’s chest.

donghyuck is surprised. eyes widening, mouth falling open, but he doesn’t protest. “may i ask why?”

“i’m trying to focus on school,” the excuse sounds measly on his tongue, but donghyuck has always been good at accepting.

there’s a pause and every part of mark is screaming at himself to retract, take all of it back; donghyuck would accept that too. but for once in his life mark knows when to let go, and that has to mean something.

he’s decaying, and the only way to survive is to amputate the root of the hurt before it turns septic, before it turns bitter. after all, donghyuck is blameless in all of this. because what mark has is the most donghyuck can give, and that should be enough but it isn’t.

mark finally understand him, though. he sees it now, how a heartbreak changes somebody.

“it was fun,” donghyuck says, a small, wistful smile on his lips. he raises a hand, butterfly’s wings against mark’s cheek but the touch burns. the kiss is he presses to the corner of mark’s lips is petal-soft, but it singes mark’s skin.

he leaves but not without one last smile. mark takes a picture and locks it in the most secure part of his mind. “bye, mark,” donghyuck says. and then he’s stolen, finally claimed by the sunlight behind the closed door. 

::;

it doesn’t take long for his brothers to realize that something is wrong.

“hey, mark,” jungwoo says in his soft voice.

mark is hunched over his desk, working on a proposal for his marketing class when jungwoo let himself in. mark should really learn to lock his door.

“i’m busy, jungwoo,” mark says, turning back to his work.

“of course,” jungwoo says. he sounds like he wants to say more so mark swivels around to face him, impatience written all over his face.

“what is it?” it comes out too sharp.

“we have a chapter meeting,” jungwoo says, sheepishly. jungwoo looks apologetic; mark wants to slap himself.

“right,” mark curses under his breath, at himself for upsetting jungwoo and his professor for giving this stupid assignment. “i’ll be right down.”

chapter meetings are rare these days, given that taeyong and over half of the house are too busy trying to graduate, but this meeting doesn’t come as a surprise because it’s long overdue. what mark doesn’t expect, however, is to be ambushed at said meeting, all eyes on him.

“what’s this about,” mark asks, trying not to squirm under their scrutiny.

“we’re worried about you,” taeyong starts.

“it’s just finals stress,” mark replies. there’s a speck on the floor and mark toes at it.

“bullshit,” yuta scoffs. “you’ve hardly left your room in a week.”

“you’re one to talk,” mark snaps, instantly regretting it when the atmosphere in the room shifts. _god_ , he’s on fire today. he needs to get out of this room, needs to do something, like batter his head against a wall or _anything_.

“mark,” doyoung tries. his voice is too gentle. it ties a noose around mark’s throat.

“no, i’m sorry,” mark heaves. “i – i’m actually not feeling well. i’m just gonna go.”

mark turns, itching to leave, but a vice-like grip prevents him from going anywhere.

“mark,” taeil says, arm extended, his fingers burning mark’s skin.

“please, let me go,” mark practically begs. he’s on the precipice, of breaking, of crying.

taeil doesn’t let go, instead tugging mark closer and closer, and mark doesn’t have the energy to fight. taeil’s arms feel like a home and mark hides in it, buries his head on the crook of taeil’s neck, silent tears soaking through his shirt.

there are hands carding through his hair, patting his back, his shoulders. he lets himself be untangled and lead out of the room, because the sacred chapter room is no place to have a breakdown. he’s being sat down on the living room couch. he feels it all but he can’t see, can’t open his eyes, can’t look at the pity on their faces.

when his breathing evens and he looks up through his tears, he finds several pairs of eyes looking back, concerned, sad, pained for him. but not pity, never pity.

“do you want to talk about it,” taeyong asks, eyebrows scrunched prettily in concern.

the words tumble from mark’s lips, clumsy and emotional, because it hurts to admit everything out loud, hurts to admit that he was stupid enough to fall in love with donghyuck, and stupid enough to think donghyuck could love him back.

“oh, mark,” johnny laments. “i’m so sorry we missed all of this.”

mark laughs bitterly. “it’s not your fault.”

“still, we should have recognized that something was wrong,” johnny says.

“no,” mark argues. “i should be the least of your worries. you guys are graduating soon and -”

“mark,” yuta cuts him off. “you really didn’t think you could get rid of us that easily, did you?”

warmth spills, like mark’s laughter, like mark’s tears. he sees them, his brothers, unyielding and beautiful and prismatic through his teary eyes. he’s always been surrounded – by love, by support, by family. he doesn’t know how he forgot, but he won’t forget ever again.

::;

_can we talk_

the text from donghyuck comes out of nowhere. mark’s heart is in his hands, and it says yes before his brain could refuse.

 _sure_.

they meet in a café right by campus, a place they’ve never been to together. perfectly neutral, but mark tastes bile in his mouth.

“what do you want to talk about,” mark asks. he doesn’t really know what to expect. it’s been radio silence for the past two weeks, just like it had been before. just like nothing had happened. mark doesn’t know why he expected the pain to stop. it still hurts now, maybe even more, now that his heart still calls donghyuck’s name and donghyuck doesn’t answer.

donghyuck folds the corner of his napkin. “jaehyun asked me how i was doing,” he says slowly, tentatively, as if pulling the words out piece by piece.

mark grimaces. “i’m sorry, i told my brothers.”

“i’m not mad,” donghyuck says. he looks into mark’s eyes for the first time that day and mark’s heart contracts a little too tightly.

“are _you_ okay?” donghyuck asks. his eyes are searching, and mark can’t hold his gaze any longer.

mark clears his throat. “why wouldn’t i be?” mark says, playing idly with his coffee cup. when he looks back up, donghyuck is still studying him.

“please don’t lie,” donghyuck says.

“i’ve been better,” mark says honestly. it’s the most he can offer.

donghyuck’s eyes widen. “why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve –“

mark’s bitter laugh cuts him off. “would’ve what? ended it? i didn’t want you to,” mark says.

“I –“ donghyuck furiously scrubs at his cheek as a stray tear falls, yet his eyes are fiery, frustrated. “ _god_ , why would you let me do that?”

of course donghyuck is angry, because mark has turned him into a weapon, and mark yielded that weapon in his own hands to stab his own heart with it. at the same time, donghyuck shouldn’t be angry, because donghyuck isn’t the one with the broken heart. mark bites his tongue this time. he’s tired of upsetting people he loves.

“i’m sorry,” donghyuck says, sincerity pouring out of every pore.

“it’s not your fault,” mark reassures. mark is growing tired of saying that, even if it’s true.

“can we start over?”

mark should say no, but perhaps mark hasn’t learned to let go.

::;

there’s a tap, tap, tap on mark’s window and donghyuck is in mark’s bed again, because mark doesn’t learn.

there’s familiarity in this – lying beside donghyuck, moonlight streaming in through the window, heart singing softened songs of pain and heartbreak.

except now they’re facing each other, hands clutched, and tears are streaming down donghyuck’s face. “i’m scared,” he whispers.

“me too,” mark says. he presses a kiss on donghyuck’s forehead and pulls him closer until they’re fully tangled up in each other. in a way, they have been for a while, tangled so tightly that mark has been suffocated by it. they both learned the hard way that it hurts more to be yanked apart.

::;

a giggle echoes against the bathroom tiles.

“how bad is it?” donghyuck asks, eyes covered by his fingers. “i knew i should’ve asked kun instead.”

“don’t be dramatic, you ungrateful brat,” ten mutters. “i did a great job.”

“yeah,” chenle agrees, still giggling. “it’s just that you look like a baby.”

“don’t be mean,” mark says.

donghyuck uncovers his eyes, looking straight at mark. “how do I look?” he asks.

“you look like how you did when we first met.”

donghyuck seems to accept that, finally turning around to look at himself in the mirror.

“oh god, i do look like a baby,” donghyuck pouts.

laughter bubbles up from mark’s chest. outside, the sun is shining, bright and promising.

**Author's Note:**

> embarrassing that this took me too long to write (months!) because reading my own writing i excruciating. tonally, it's a bit of a mess and it really didn't turn out how i wanted, but i was tired of it sitting in my WIPs so i decided to release it. please leave some love if you enjoyed <3


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